


watch the world chasing to find us

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hiding in Plain Sight, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook and Archie meet up after a few weeks apart. Fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch the world chasing to find us

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is basically supposed to be secret relationship fic, brought on by a conversation between me and fallingthishard (I’m not sure I captured exactly what you were going for, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!) You could also think of this as an attempt to fic recent events :P Title from ‘Fade Into Me,’ because it seemed appropriate.

  
Archie texts him _See you @ the usual?_ , and Cook has to hide his grin in the curve of his palm, knowing the guys will give him so much shit for it if they see it.  
  
 _You bet_ , he sends, and spends the next hour trying to mask his excitement. It’s pretty easy, all things considered. They’ve been working nearly non-stop on the finishing touches for _Digital Vein_ , and with the time counting down to its release Cook has been in a constant state of nail-biting anxiety and the kind of ‘oh my god I can feel my heart in my _throat_ ’ kind of excitement that always precedes a new album release.  
  
Now, of course, his pre-release jitters are joined by his anticipation to see Archie. He hasn’t seen his boyfriend since he left for Australia and then New Zealand, and they’d missed each other in California, so this little reunion is, in Cook’s humble opinion, way past due.  
  
Monty shoots him a knowing look before he and the guys take their leave, but Cook doesn’t even care; he’s showered and dressed and out the door a bare fifteen minutes later, his fingertips drumming against the steering wheel in a show of nerves which he would usually attribute to his younger partner.  
  
By the time he pulls up to the restaurant he’s nearly giddy, and he spends a moment staring at himself in the rearview mirror, trying to school his expression into something a little less ‘besotted twelve-year old girl’ and more ‘besotted thirty-two year old man who can conduct himself like an adult and _not_ jump his gorgeous boyfriend in public, damn it.’ He’s – mostly – successful. Until he steps inside the restaurant, anyway.  
  
They spot each other at the same time. Archie’s out of his seat a second before Cook is on him, wrapping his arms tight around the other man and pressing the curve of his grin against Archie’s neck. He feels more than hears Archie’s breathless laughter against the shell of his ear, and he rubs his scruff against Archie’s skin just to hear more of it.  
  
“ _Cook_!” Archie gasps, pressing his palms against Cook’s chest to push him away.  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” Cook says, even though he’s not. He takes a moment to just look at the younger man, taking in his bright smile and flushed cheeks, his lightly styled hair and checkered shirt. His grin softens, something warm and shivery unfurling in his chest. “You look good, Arch.”  
  
Years ago such a remark would have gotten Cook a blush and a flustered protest, and though Archie does go a little red, he doesn’t hesitate to give Cook a slow once-over, or to follow up his little assessment with a cheeky, “You, too.”  
  
All promises of age-appropriate conduct abruptly fly out the window. Cook does manage to swallow down all of the (slightly filthy) words he’d like to say, but it’s a near thing.  
  
Cook winds up ordering a sandwich after they take their seats, though it’s more for show than anything else, especially after they start talking. Archie’s half-eaten salad remains untouched as he tells Cook all about Australia and New Zealand, how beautiful Sydney was and how cool it was to see the Hobbiton set. Cook finds himself focusing more on Archie’s face than the words themselves, his wide grin and sparkling eyes doing little to dissuade Cook from his self-imposed ‘no fondling in public’ rule.  
  
“I still can’t believe we missed each other in California,” Archie says, sipping at his water, and _oh_ , that brings to mind something else entirely.  
  
Cook smirks. “I was pretty disappointed myself, after you sent me that picture.” Well, the link to a picture, anyway. He taps the toe of Archie’s shoe with his own, grinning rakishly, and knows that Archie knows exactly what picture he’s referring to. Just imagining the curves and defined musculature of Archie’s body outlined by the skin-tight wet suit makes Cook’s breath catch a little, and the look Archie gives him, pointed and full of promise, doesn’t exactly help matters.  
  
“It’s been a while, you know, since we saw each other last.” Archie’s voice is light, soft, his head tilted to the side as he regards Cook with bright eyes. Innocent though he might seem in that moment, Cook knows better. Archie’s _teasing_ him. “I just wanted to, you know. Remind you.” Beneath the table his foot slides against Cook’s, out of sight of the rest of the diners. Their knees brush.  
  
Cook’s blood warms. “Of what I was missing?” he asks, voice low. He reaches across the table and touches Archie’s fingers, briefly, with his own, the curve of his grin doing nothing to disguise the direction of his thoughts. “Hell, Arch, you didn’t have to blow up Instagram for that. Believe me, I didn’t forget.”  
  
  
  
They wind up staying only long enough for Archie to take a few more uninterested bites of his salad and Cook to barely put a dent in his sandwich. The rest of the diners barely give them a second glance as they head out, and Cook’s love for the place grows once again as he curves his arm around Archie’s waist. In a town as full of celebrities far more famous than they, it’s nice to be able to blend into the crowd and be together without having to worry too much about people recognizing them or caring (or _noticing_ , for that matter) that they’re a couple.  
  
(Cook has a running tally of the amount of times they’ve been out and someone has recognized one of them while being completely oblivious about the other’s identity. Archie’s in the lead at the moment, which is actually kind of unfair considering Cook’s lived there far longer than his boyfriend.)  
  
Archie follows him home in his own car, and Cook spends the ride over with the ghost of Archie’s touch lingering against his skin, his fingers warm from where Archie’s had brushed against them. By the time they’re both inside the door, Cook’s amount of self-control is basically zilch, and he spends a few minutes reacquainting himself with Archie’s mouth, mapping the familiar dips and valleys with his lips and tongue. Archie’s fingers curl into the short hair at the base of his neck, his soft sighs and breathy exhalations Cook’s favorite fucking soundtrack of all time, and by the time they pull apart, both of them breathing a little heavier, their lips are soft and swollen.  
  
“Hey,” Cook says, crowding in close, his fingers smoothing over Archie’s shoulders and chest, tangling in his checkered shirt.  
  
“Hi,” Archie whispers back, lips curling into a sweet smile, and Cook can’t resist pulling him in for a hug, which Archie just folds into like it’s the most natural thing in the world (which, Cook thinks, grinning, it kind of is.)  
  
They wind up on the sofa in Cook’s huge den, stretched out with Archie settled between Cook’s legs, his back pressed to Cook’s chest as they talk quietly. Every so often they’ll lapse into comfortable silence, and Cook will hide his giddy smile in Archie’s dark hair, so ridiculously happy to have the other man close again that it’s actually a little pathetic.  
  
“I saw your, um, your interview the other day,” Archie says at one point, tilting his head back so he can catch Cook’s eyes.  
  
“Oh? Which one?” He’s done more than a few in the past couple of weeks, gearing up for _Digital Vein’s_ release date.  
  
“The um, the one with Lisa Foxx?”  
  
Oh. _Oh_. Cook rubs the back of his neck, a little embarrassed despite himself. “You saw that, huh?”  
  
He can feel Archie’s shoulders shake against his chest, and he glances down suspiciously to catch a hint of Arch’s trademark grin. He pokes the younger man in the side, eliciting a giggle. “I have the strangest feeling that you’re making fun of me, David Archuleta.”  
  
Archie laughs, turning in Cook’s embrace until he’s sprawled out on Cook’s chest, his arms pillowing his head. “I’m totally not,” he says, though his wide grin says otherwise. “I think it’s great that you mentioned our concert, that’s all.”  
  
“Hmm.” Cook’s eyes narrow. “Is that so?”  
  
“Mm hm. Especially since it only happens every… uh, every so often.” His grin broadens as he stumbles purposefully over the words, and Cook gapes, staring in shock at his giggling boyfriend.  
  
“You _are_ making fun of me,” he accuses, curling his fingers around Archie’s sides and under his arms in quick succession. Archie collapses into breathy laughter, trying to squirm away from the ticklish touch.  
  
“N-no, I promise, I – ahaha – Cook, haha, I give, I give!” There are tears of mirth shining in his eyes as Cook relinquishes his assault, and, feeling generous (and a little besotted at Archie’s flushed, happy face, so sue him) Cook curves his hands low around Archie’s back, safe from any further ticklish territory.  
  
“I’ll forgive you, I guess,” he sighs, settling against the couch cushions and relishing anew in the weight of Archie’s body pressed against his own.  
  
Archie pats his chest, smiling softly as he catches his breath. “I’m not making fun,” he repeats earnestly. “It’s just – I’m the one that’s supposed to get all flustered and nervous, Cook, not you!” He grins against Cook’s chest, looking so pleased with himself that Cook can’t even muster up the nerve to be offended.  
  
“Yeah, well,” he mutters, glancing away as his cheeks grow considerably warmer.  
  
“Oh my gosh,” Archie says, and he sounds positively thrilled. “You’re _blushing_. Awww, Cook.” His hands, smooth and cool, curve around Cook’s hot cheeks, gently turning his head so their eyes meet. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I think it’s cute. And it’s nice that you get a little nervous when you talk about me. I thought I was the only one who got like that.”

Cook’s eyebrows rise. “You get nervous when you talk about me?”  
  
Archie rolls his eyes, shaking his head like Cook’s totally dumb (he’d never actually say that, of course, but Cook can tell he’s thinking it.) “ _Um_ , only all the time. Moreso during _Idol_ , but… yeah, even now I still trip over my words whenever anyone asks about you.”  
  
Cook feels his chest and stomach warm considerably at the words, and he tilts his cheek against Arch’s palm with a slow curl of his lips. “Are you telling me I make you nervous, Archuleta?” he asks, voice slipping into the throaty lower register that never fails to make Archie react in… well, interesting ways.  
  
Archie ducks his head, though his gaze never wavers from Cook’s face. “Maybe,” he says, and Cook marvels once again at the unforgettable sight of David Archuleta acting _coy_.  
  
“Oh?” He surges up, catching Archie’s gasp of surprise with a quick, hard kiss as he flips their positions, until his hips are nestled snugly between Archie’s thighs, their chests pressed together. “What about now?” he asks, pressing his hands to either side of Archie’s head and smirking down at his rumpled boyfriend.  
  
Archie hums, tilting his head to regard Cook curiously. His arms drift up to curl around Cook’s neck, long fingers tangling in his hair. “Mmm. Are you sure it’s not the other way around, Coo – mmph!” His words trail off in a gasp, muffled between their lips as Cook slots their mouths together, and in a moment all thoughts of conversation drift away in lieu of a lazy exchange of slow, heated kisses.  
  
They can always settle the score later.


End file.
